


Fish Food

by Knightess



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Injury, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightess/pseuds/Knightess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward's close scrape with a shark spurs him to try and write another letter home to Caroline. As ever, drink proves a distraction. (Minific, for Elle.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish Food

Edward had seen sharks tear apart a man before.

It’s the blood. They can smell it. And like a ship to port, they swim straight for it, jaws locked around their prey. The smaller sharks might go for an arm or a leg first, the bigger will try to swallow a man whole. Many a time he’s swam with sharks himself and felt his time up. This time, however, he’d been lucky. His shoulder had been bandaged and cleaned in such way that he hoped it wouldn’t fester, and, as he sat down at the Old Avery in his usual routine, he felt that close shave with death was enough prompt to write another letter.

Anne strolled over, set down two drinks on the table, and perched herself opposite, laughter in her eyes – danger was nothing if not high entertainment to the Nassau sort.

“What do ye think you’d say to her, Edward? _Dearest Caroline. Got chomped by a fish on the way to looting some gutted old galleon. Pity there was no treasure. Your knobrot husband, Edward._ ”

Edward half-grinned, half-grimaced and set down his quill before he’d even made a mark on the page, any confessions to his wife now forgotten. “Give over with that. If I’d just been able to get a better look at the ship, I know I would have found something worthwhile.”

“And become fish food as soon as ye’d lay eyes on it. The Devil’s staked his claim on that wreck, and he’ll drag any man down with him who wants a share of it, or so they say.”

Edward took a deep swig of the rum she gave him – unpleasantly warm and oversweet in the Nassau heat, but what could be done? This was his lot until he got his fortune. “We play dice with the Devil every day, Anne. Some games are just riskier than others.”

She clicked her tongue and took a swig of her own flagon, her eyes travelling down to the unwritten letter, then to his bloodied and bandaged shoulder. “Another round on me? To dull the pain, like.”

“Aye,” Edward said gruffly, and set the blank page aside. “Cheers, Bonny.”


End file.
